My Dream, Your Reality
by NerdiGirl
Summary: Alice knows the truth, but no one else in this world seems to. She's more than ready to return to the only place that makes sense, but how can she, when she's stuck in a place that everyone else thinks is real? Oneshot.


_Alice! Alice. Dear, wake up. You've had a terrible dream, it seems. Ah, well. You'll be better in a matter of minutes._

_Alice! Alice. Dear, you were dozing off again. You and sleeping! Why have you been so tired lately?_

_Alice! Alice. Dear, did you even hear what I said? It's almost like you're not even here..._

_Alice! Alice. Dear, can you see me? Can you hear what I'm saying?_

_Alice! Alice. Dear, please open your eyes. I'm right here. Here._

_Alice! Alice. Dear, where are you? Where have you gone?_

_Alice! Alice. Dear, please come back to me._

_Come back, Alice. Please..._

_Alice! Alice. Dear, wake up. You've had a terrible dream, it seems. Ah, well. You'll be better in a matter of minutes._

* * *

That's how the cycle goes, unfortunately. They wake me up. I fall asleep. They wake me up again, but not all the way. They don't seem to realize that I'm still asleep.

However, I'm worried as to how much of what they realize is inside my dreams and how much is outside. It seems to me that there's not much of a difference. It be a lot easier if there weren't. But to them, there is. There's always a difference.

It used to be that the only difference was how much I slept. When I was a toddler, it was the cause of overexertion. When I was a child, it was the cause of busy days. When I was a preteen, it was the cause of puberty. When I was a teenager, it was the cause of stress. When I was a young college student, it was the cause of overexertion.

Now, I'm 22 in this place, and there is nothing to blame my sleeping sickness on. Now, the difference is how much I see, as contrasted with how much they see.

It's not narcolepsy. That's what they call a form of sleeping sickness here. Unfortunately, I don't share any of the symptoms. I don't fall asleep often. I don't have terrible dreams. I don't do anything. That's just it. They don't seem to understand that it's not a problem, either. I sleep and I sleep and I sleep and they don't seem to understand that to me, the dreams are the only things that are keeping me from everything.

A regular conversation after they wake me up normally goes something like this:

**Mother:** Hello, Alice, dearest. How was your rest?

**Me:** Fine.

**Father:** Did you learn anything new in this latest dream of yours? *chuckles*

**Me**:...

**Mother:** Go on, Alice. Did you go somewhere different this time? We won't laugh.

**Me:**...

**Father:** We promise.

**Me:** You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

**Mother:** Of course we would, Alice. Tell us.

**Father:** We only want to hear from you.

**Me:**... Okay.

And then I go on to tell them about my world.

The difference between myself and them is that they can't seem to grasp that this place, for me, is not real. That is the place that is real. My world is real. In my dreams, I'm not dreaming, and they can't seem to see that because they are stuck here, in the actual dream. They are absolutely convinced that this is real life and my fantasy is just that- a fantasy. They're wrong, but they think they're right, which I think is awfully funny.

It's amazing that I can dream up such self-consumed characters that think they're real. I mean, really. If I were in a dream, wouldn't I know if I was real or not?

I mean, wouldn't you?

No. You would think you would, but you wouldn't. Right now, you could be just a figment of someone's imagination, but be absolutely 100% convinced that you were real. This would be your life, your call, your personality. All fake? Impossible. You must be someone, right? On the other hand, someone else could be a figment of your imagination, depending on what would you lived in. An imagination is a powerful and potent thing, when used properly. It really makes me wonder how people without them survive. Life must be terribly boring, wouldn't you think? Absolutely convinced you are real when you're not. Absolutely convinced you can think and speak and live when you can't. You would think you're right, but the only thing that's right is the truth, and you are absolutely convinced otherwise.

Unfortunately, they are those kinds of people. When I explain the truth, trying to make them finally see, they call me crazy and imaginative and give me lots of medication after I tell them (for what I tell myself will be the last time) about my world, because that's how the dream is supposed to end. Instead of ending, though, that's when the whole thing turns into a nightmare. I can't see anything and I can't feel anything and I can't hear anything and I just want to sleep, but something wrecks my passage and I can't sleep properly, so I can't go back home and I'm stuck in my dreams wishing desperately for the truth to come out.

That's when the cycle picks up speed. I just want to go home- can't they see that? But no, they trap me here. I just have to wait until the medicine wears off. I get tired of waiting, though, and I try to force myself to sleep. Nearing the end, I can almost see it, and it's right in my grasp, and I'm so close, and all I have to do is reach the little door right in front of me that I can't quite fit into anyway...

And I'm so close. I know it.

Today is the beginning of a new cycle, and the end of a devastatingly close encounter. I promise myself I won't tell them again. I need to be back in my world, where all of _this_ makes sense. How long have I been gone? How long will I be able to stay this time? This world makes no sense, with the weird cars and phones and planes and customs that my imagination has somehow rendered possible. How do I even think of these things? A potent and powerful imagination may almost as bad as no imagination at all...

No. I can't believe I just thought that. This place is changing me.

I need to go home. Now.

**Mother:** Hello, Alice, dearest. How was your rest?

**Me:** Fine.

**Father:** Did you learn anything new in this latest dream of yours? *chuckles*

**Me:**...

**Mother:** Go on, Alice. Did you go somewhere different this time? We won't laugh.

**Me:**...

**Father:** We promise.

**Me:** You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

**Mother:** Of course we would, Alice. Tell us.

**Father:** We only want to hear from you.

Instead of my normal response, which I almost say, the corners of my mouth turn up in a small smile, a secretive one that brings confusion to their eyes.

**Me:** I'm sorry. I really can't say today. Goodbye. I'll tell you when I get back.

Then I go back upstairs.

**Father:** Alice! Alice. Dear, please come back to us.

**Mother:** Come back, Alice. Please...

Come back to where? My head? My mind?

Sorry, Mother and Father. I'm coming home. My home is not with you, but it is home for me.

When I go back upstairs, I lay down on my bed and I sleep

and I sleep

and I sleep

until I'm back in my dreamland.

That's all I can do, after all. All I can do is sleep, waiting until I go back to my home.

All I do is sleep until I return to my Wonderland.

* * *

_Alice! Alice. Dear, wake up. You've had a terrible dream, it seems. Ah, well. You'll be better in a matter of minutes._

_Alice! Alice. Dear, you were dozing off again. You and sleeping! Why have you been so tired lately?_

_Alice! Alice. Dear, did you even hear what I said? It's almost like you're not even here..._

_Alice! Alice. Dear, can you see me? Can you hear what I'm saying?_

_Alice! Alice. Dear, please open your eyes. I'm right here. Here._

_Alice! Alice. Dear, where are you? Where have you gone?_

_Alice! Alice. Dear, please come back to us._

_Come back, Alice. Please..._

* * *

**Him:** Hello, Alice. Come to stay?


End file.
